


A Gift Gone Awry, or How Gideon Prewett's Watch Got Its Dent

by cryptaknight



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:40:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22228783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptaknight/pseuds/cryptaknight
Summary: A Christmas cracker from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes delivers the unexpected.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Gideon Prewett
Comments: 11
Kudos: 159
Collections: Smutty Claus Exchange





	A Gift Gone Awry, or How Gideon Prewett's Watch Got Its Dent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GaeilgeRua](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GaeilgeRua/gifts).



> Written for the 2019 Smutty Claus gift exchange. No warnings (that I can think of) apply - I think this is even epilogue compliant, if you squint at it sideways. If I've missed any details or tidbits from Pottermore or the like, apologies.

━━☆ ⌒*.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

_Ottery St. Catchpole, Christmas 1998_

Hermione leaned back in her chair, content with her full belly after a Weasley Christmas feast. Plenty of food still remained on the table, despite the extraordinarily large group they'd had this year, and Hermione knew Molly Weasley would be finding creative ways to serve the leftovers to them for at least a week. Looking around the room, Hermione couldn't help but smile - so many of the people she loved were here, even though there were some conspicuous absences. It was lovely to celebrate the holidays this year without the sword of Damocles hanging over all their heads, and the warmth of the large gathering was stark in contrast to the bleak and lonely Christmas she'd spent with Harry the year previous.

"Alright, alright - who's got the Christmas crackers?" Arthur Weasley boomed cheerfully, casting his eyes about the table.

"I've got them," George said, standing up. His hair had gotten long, covering the spot where his missing ear should be. "I'll be right back."

He vanished with a pop, re-materializing a few moments later with a large basket of Christmas crackers wrapped in brightly colored paper. Clearing his throat to get the room's attention - no small feat when the group included half of the Order, Luna and her father, Neville and his gran, Andromeda Tonks and Teddy Lupin, all Weasleys and various significant others, plus Harry and Hermione - George's face took on a somber cast.

"Fred and I were working on these crackers last year. They're going to be sold at the store, but you lot are getting first, er, crack at them." His lips twitched in a lopsided, rueful smile. "So think of them as a last gift from Fred, yeah?"

George reached into the basket and began tossing the crackers to the people around the room. Hermione caught hers neatly, admiring the bright blue paper adorned with silver stars. She watched as the people around the room began pulling on the ends, gasping in delight as each one sent up a shower of sparkles over the puller. 

Harry's sparkles settled around him, giving him a top hat, monocle, and a thick, luscious moustache. He gave Ginny, who now had a duck's bill for a mouth, a saucy wink and tip of his hat. Luna twirled under a shower of posies that rained down over her. Ron had an armful of hopping chocolate frogs. The crackers were incredibly clever. Hermione couldn't wait to see what hers held. She grasped the ends of the cracker, and gave it a hearty pull. 

Blue and silver sparkles that matched the wrapping shot up as the paper broke apart, nearly reaching the ceiling before arching back down to fall about her head and shoulders. Hermione felt a tugging sensation, and then a sharp pull. She hit the back of her chair so hard it nearly knocked the wind from her.

Except it wasn't a chair. It was someone's body. 

With a yelp, she leapt to her feet. Looking wildly around the room, Hermione saw that she was in the exact same spot she'd been moments before, only everything was completely different. Instead of seeing her friends delighting in the clever crackers Fred and George had designed, the room was filled with people who looked familiar, but who were also currently drawing their wands to point them at her.

"So, who are you then?" A deceptively casual question from the person whose lap she'd landed in. He had deep russet hair and intelligent gray eyes. Hermione couldn't shake the feeling she'd seen him before.

Hermione swallowed hard, not sure how to answer. She looked around the room again, her eyes settling on one face she absolutely recognized. Molly. But she looked so much younger, and she was enormously pregnant. Hermione felt her head start to spin.

"I think she's about to faint," she heard Molly say, concern lacing her voice despite the tenseness of the situation.

 _I never faint!_ Hermione thought, indignant, and then everything went black.

━━☆ ⌒*.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

"What if she was sent by You-Know-Who?"

A snort. "What kind of dark, evil witch passes out while wearing a Christmas jumper?"

"He's got a point, Molls. It even looks a bit like one of yours."

"I did not knit a jumper for some strange girl who goes popping into people's holiday dinners uninvited!"

 _You did, though,_ Hermione thought, cracking one eye open to see several concerned faces gathered above her. The man with the russet hair and grey eyes, and another one who looked just like him. A person she suspected was a youthful Arthur Weasley. And Molly, frowning deeply. Hermione didn't blame her.

She sat up slowly. "I'm not a dark, evil witch," she said, knowing that was exactly the sort of thing a dark, evil witch would probably say. "I just opened a Christmas cracker."

She sounded bonkers. By the looks of things, the assorted redheads agreed, backing off ever so slightly. With a sigh, she tried again.

"I was at a, ah, a holiday dinner," she said, carefully. "I opened a Christmas cracker. I ended up here. I think the spell was defective." Which was understating the obvious. "I didn't mean to crash your family dinner." She bit her lip and held up her hands, spread wide in the universal I-come-in-peace gesture. "My name is Hermione."

As soon as it was out of her mouth, it occurred to Hermione that perhaps she should have given a fake name, but what was done, was done. 

"Wotcher," said the man closest to her. Hermione thought it was the man she'd landed upon. He'd also been the one defending her to Molly. "I'm Gideon. You can tell on account of the great honking 'G' on my jumper."

Molly reached out and swatted Gideon on the shoulder, but he only grinned widely.

"The mean one is my sister Molly. And that's my brother Fabian," he said, pointing at the nearly identical man standing near him. "You can tell as he's got an 'F' on his jumper. 'A' stands for Arthur, that's Molly's husband."

Indeed, all the men in the room were wearing jumpers like hers, knitted and gifted by Molly. Hermione suppressed a grin. Some things remained constant, it seemed.

Gideon cocked his head to the side. "A Christmas cracker, you say?"

Molly snorted, but Gideon held up a hand to stop her protest. "Where did you get it? I suspect this is a prank, but in times like these …"

In times like these, indeed. Hermione sighed. She'd just finally settled into life after 'times like these', and if her math was correct, she'd landed smack in the middle of them again. She rubbed at her face, feeling quite exhausted suddenly.

"I understand your concern," she said. "But I'm afraid my explanation is going to sound preposterous."

"Try us," said Gideon, sitting on the sofa next to her. His voice was gentle, and his eyes were kind. Hermione nodded.

"Alright. Okay." Hermione turned her eyes to meet Molly's, steeling herself against Molly's deep suspicion. "The cracker was made by your sons. Fred and George Weasley."

"You're bloody well right, that's preposterous!" Molly stepped closer. "I haven't got any sons called Fred or George. I've got a William, and a Charles, and a Percival, and they're just babies besides." Molly gesticulated toward Gideon, as if surely he could not believe this nonsense.

"They're your twins." Hermione said this quietly, but it stopped Molly in her tracks. 

The man identical to Gideon, Fabian, put a hand on Molly's shoulder. "Molls, are you … ?"

Molly looked to Arthur, who shrugged. Slowly, she nodded. 

"We only found out a few days ago. We were going to tell you all after Christmas dinner, but then all this - " She gestured toward the sofa and Hermione. " - happened."

Molly stepped close to Hermione again. "How could you know? Does You-Know-Who have spies at St Mungo's?" 

Gideon frowned. Hermione sighed again, because of course Voldemort had spies at the hospital. He had spies everywhere. But she was not one of them, and she couldn't think of how to convince the assorted Prewetts and Weasleys of that fact. She closed her eyes, running through everything that had happened since she'd pulled on the cracker. 

"Gideon?" she said, drawing his attention. "Was I holding anything when I, er, when I arrived?"

He nodded. "Yeah. A piece of paper. It fell from your hand. Hang on a tick."

Gideon got up, giving her an odd look as he went back to the dining room. He returned with a scrap of bright blue paper, adorned with silver stars. 

"Look, Molls." He held the paper out to her. "It's got a sticker on it."

Molly snatched the paper from her brother's hand, her eyes scanning over the writing on the label. Then she looked up at Hermione.

"What does it say, dear?" Arthur pulled his reading glasses from a pocket, leaning over Molly's shoulder. Then he also looked up at Hermione. "It says, 'Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, F. & G. Weasley, Proprietors, Est. 1996'."

Hermione had never felt so relieved, even though it was now Molly who was fainting as all the men in the room rushed forward to catch her.

━━☆ ⌒*.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It had been decided, once Molly was revived and after vociferous discussion, that Hermione would be taken to Hogwarts to see Professor Dumbledore in the morning. It was too late for a trip up by the time they'd decided to consult the headmaster, and it was Christmas, besides. Hermione had not wanted to impinge on Molly and Arthur any more than she had already; they had their hands full getting two preschoolers and a baby to bed on such an exciting day. Molly had said it would be no trouble to make up a room for Hermione, but Hermione knew better, and she'd accepted gratefully when Gideon and Fabian had offered to take her back to the Prewett home with them.

Fabian had pled exhaustion and gone up to bed shortly after their arrival at the house by Floo, but Gideon had said he had a million questions for Hermione, and had plonked her down at the kitchen table with a cup of tea. She'd had to demur on many of his questions, knowing it was dangerous to reveal too much of the future to someone. To Hermione's surprise, rather than getting frustrated with her, Gideon had just laughed and seemed to regard her refusal as a challenge, trying to find a question she would answer.

"At least tell me if Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans catch on!" he cried, throwing his hands up in the air, the twinkle in his gray eyes letting Hermione know he was not actually irritated.

"Fine!" She couldn't help laughing. She couldn't see any harm in this one. "They do, and they're constantly concocting even more revolting flavours."

"And do Fred and George sell them along with Christmas crackers that go horribly awry?" Gideon arched his brow in what Hermione could not help noticing was a very attractive way. Unfortunately, he was clever as well as attractive, and Hermione knew she would do well to remember that.

"Promise not to tell Molly or Arthur?" Hermione relented, knowing Gideon would not live to see Weasley's Wizard Wheezes come to fruition. 

Gideon nodded. "Our secret."

"They do," she said. "Their shop sells so many wonderful things, really. They're brilliant with charm work, honestly."

It felt odd to be speaking of the twins, together, in the present tense. She hadn't since Fred had been killed. But right now, Fred was safely nestled with his brother within Molly Weasley, and she couldn't let anything slip that might inspire someone to try to alter the future.

"They must take after their uncles," Gideon said, winking at Hermione.

She admonished herself to stop it when a flush suffused her cheeks. 

"I suspect so," she replied, quietly. She knew she'd better end this conversation, before Gideon put any more forbidden knowledge together. "I'm going to try to get some sleep. I'm anxious to get to the school as soon as we can tomorrow."

Gideon stood when Hermione did, and placed his hand on the small of her back as he guided her to Molly's old bedroom. He stopped in the doorway, a lopsided smile on his face.

"Goodnight, Hermione," he said. "It was nice getting to know you, even if you're being whisked back to the future tomorrow."

She smiled back at him. "Likewise. Thank you for helping me."

He nodded, closing the door behind him as he left. Hermione sighed, and turned to the bedroom. Molly's room was disconcertingly like Ginny's, back at the Burrow. There were some feminine touches - a flowered quilt on the bed, a silver brush set on the vanity - but some that showed her true personality, too, like Quidditch posters on the wall, and an advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts text tossed carelessly on the nightstand. Hermione had spent many nights in Ginny's room during school breaks, and she felt oddly at ease in her mother's room as a result. 

One of the Prewett brothers had laid an old t-shirt and pair of pajama pants on the bed. Hermione picked up the shirt; it was soft with age, and bore a Chudley Cannons logo. With a snort, she got undressed, grateful for the borrowed sleepwear, and snuggled into the comfy bed. She was asleep nearly as soon as her head hit the pillow, utterly exhausted by the events of the day.

━━☆ ⌒*.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Being several centuries old, Hogwarts didn't change much. In 1978 it looked the same as it did in 1998, minus the damage it had sustained during the battle, which was still being put to rights in Hermione's time. The only real differences Hermione detected were in the uniforms of the students who had stayed behind for the holiday - the shirt collars were more in the Peter Pan style, the skirts a bit longer, and the trousers were a bit more flared - and in Professor Dumbledore's and McGonagall's faces, which had a few less lines.

The latter were also looking at her with grave seriousness, though not with disbelief, which was a relief, if a bit unnerving. She'd poured out her whole story, with Gideon interjecting details here and there. Gideon seemed to have assumed responsibility for her, which she didn't exactly mind. She found his presence comforting, especially faced with two of the most formidable people she'd ever known. 

"You say it was simply a defective charm?" Dumbledore looked at her, his eyes as bright a blue and as sharp with intelligence as she remembered. 

"Yes," Hermione said firmly. "There was nothing malicious at work."

"I see. Minerva?" Dumbledore turned to the Transfiguration professor.

"Do you have any remaining bits of the cracker?" Professor McGonagall asked, tapping a finger against Dumbledore's desk.

"I do!" Hermione fished that wonderful starry bit of paper out of her pocket. She was glad she'd thought to bring it with her, though she'd expected to have to use it to prove her story again. She handed the paper over to McGonagall, who accepted it carefully, placing it into a phial she produced from inside of her robes.

"There may be some residual magic on this wrapper," McGonagall explained, tucking the phial back into her robes. "I shall see if Professor Slughorn and Professor Flitwick will help me analyze it."

"I can help," Hermione volunteered. She found herself getting a bit excited at the prospect of such a project. It had been a while since she'd been able to turn her talents to anything like this. 

"Then it sounds like we've got a plan to help this young witch," Dumbledore said, steepling his hands under his chin. "Mr. Prewett, can Miss Granger continue to lodge with you? I don't wish news of her presence to fall into the wrong hands."

"Of course," Gideon said, his hand landing on her shoulder. He gave her shoulder a slight, reassuring squeeze. Hermione felt her cheeks warm. "Can we set up a Floo connection between my house and the school? It might be the best way for Hermione to travel back and forth."

Dumbledore started to answer, but Hermione never found out what that was, because suddenly a Patronus in the shape of a pine marten erupted into the room. Gideon's head snapped to attention, and Hermione knew it must be an Order member to garner that reaction.

A woman's voice, vaguely familiar, came from the spectral marten's mouth. "My sister has an antique diadem in her possession! I think it may be the one you're looking for. She's planning to move it to her vault tonight."

"Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem?" Hermione burst out, unable to contain herself. She regretted it the instant that every head in the room swiveled to face her.

"Do you know what it is?" Dumbledore looked at her intensely, and Hermione swallowed. Based on all she knew, this was secret information. She nodded. 

"But it shouldn't be in a vault. Or it won't be, anyway."

"Do you know where it should be? And say no more than yes or know. I cannot know too much."

Hermione nodded again, understanding. "Yes. I do."

"Then you must intercept it and place it where it will be." Dumbledore paused, then looked at her even more scrutinizingly. "Can Mr. Prewett accompany you?"

Hermione closed her eyes, knowing what Dumbledore was truly asking her. "Yes, he can."

A sorrowful shadow passed over Dumbledore's face, but he quickly hid it, clasping his hands together jovially. "Then it seems you two have a mission!"

"Minerva!" Dumbledore turned to McGonagall. "Please begin working on a way to return Ms. Granger to her proper place in the timeline."

"Yes, Headmaster." McGonagall made to hurry out of Dumbledore's office. "Good luck, Miss Granger, Mr. Prewett."

Hermione watched her descend the stairs, sorry that she wasn't joining her for a round of spell detection. 

Dumbledore cast a phoenix shaped Patronus, and spoke into it. "Ms. Tonks, thank you for the information. We shall act immediately." 

The marten Patronus had belonged to Andromeda Tonks, Hermione realized. And behind that came the grim realization that meant the sister she and Gideon would be facing off with must be Bellatrix Lestrange. Well, that was just fantastic.

━━☆ ⌒*.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

"I don't understand how you can be sure she's in there," Hermione grumbled, huddled in the small pocket of warmth her spell provided. "Bellatrix could just floo or apparate to Diagon Alley."

She stood with Gideon on the outskirts of the Lestrange property, a little closer to him than was strictly necessary to remain under his Disillusionment charm. It was cold out and she wanted to share the warmth with him. Also, he smelled really, really nice.

Gideon pulled a folded square of parchment from the back pocket of his trousers. "Watch this."

He unfolded the parchment, which was blank. Then he cast a scrutinizing eye upon the LeStrange home. Pulling a self-inking quill from inside of his peacoat, he sketched out a rough drawing of the home, then drew two small dots inside of the house. He labeled one _Rodolphus_ and the other _Bellatrix_ , then switched the quill for his wand. Tapping the parchment with his wand, he whispered and unfamiliar incantation, and Hermione felt a small thrill go through her. This was a less sophisticated version of the Marauders Map.

"Did you by chance show this spellwork to a young cousin of Andromeda Tonks' called Sirius?" Hermione couldn't help asking.

Gideon quirked an eyebrow, "Yeah, I did. It's something Fabian and I came up with - Molly's using it to make a clock, what a waste - and I taught him so he could avoid some of his nastier family members." He paused. "Why, do you know him?"

"You know I'm not going to tell you," Hermione teased. "And I've seen the clock; it's incredible. What sort of spell is it based on?"

"We started with a Protean charm, then tie it to a locator spell," he explained, a smug grin on his face. "And then a bit of Prewett brilliance."

Hermione nodded, making a mental note to ask Molly about her clock when she got back to her proper time. Her mind was racing with all the possible applications of the innovative spell.

Inching closer to Gideon, she looked down at the drawing he'd made. The Bellatrix and Rodolphus dots were moving about, but not showing any signs of leaving. She sighed, and resigned herself to a night of waiting. Her mind was still on clocks, and timepieces, when something occurred to her.

"What time does Gringotts close?" Hermione had never had reason to use the wizard bank, and it had been proper banking hours the last time she'd paid a visit to Bellatrix Lestrange's vault.

"Half past six," Gideon said, fishing in his pocket for his watch. "And it's … " He squinted, looking at the starry face of it, and Hermione swallowed and looked away. It was the watch that someday would be given to Harry on his seventeenth birthday, and it hurt her heart a little to see it in the hands of this hale and fit man. "It's quarter past six now."

He sounded alarmed, and Hermione looked back at him, meeting his grey eyes. As one, they looked back at the parchment, where Bellatrix's dot remained, on the opposite side of the house from Rodolphus. 

Slowly, Gideon said, "You know, 'Dromeda's got two nasty sisters, come to think of it."

"Narcissa," Hermione breathed, and Gideon nodded grimly. She could kick herself. This sort of thing always came of her assuming she knew something, when she hadn't properly researched. Blast it all. Irritated with herself, she wrapped an arm around Gideon's waist and slashed her wand through the air, apparating them to Diagon Alley.

She aimed for a narrow side-path around the corner from Gringotts. She knew the bank, much like Hogwarts, did not allow people to pop in willy-nilly. They had a good view of the front entrance, and she hoped that by 'tonight', Andromeda had meant her sister would be visiting her vault as close to closing as possible, so as to limit the number of eyes on her. 

Hermione had to admit that having Narcissa stash the diadem was clever. Lucius Malfoy was a loyal follower of Voldemort's, and his wife was a rich and beautiful woman who was rarely questioned by anyone - whereas Bellatrix was, well, Bellatrix. If Narcissa Malfoy showed up thirty seconds before closing and wanted to visit her vault, the Gringotts goblins would hardly argue with her. The diadem would be secure, in a slightly different location than the cup, and available to Voldemort whenever he wanted it. 

Well, not if Hermione Granger and Gideon Prewett had anything to say about it.

"What's your plan?" Gideon whispered, looking askance at the alley, which was not busy on the day after Christmas. 

Hermione let her mind work through the problem as fast and furious as she could. "I'm going to distract her. You're going to switch the diadem out with a fake," she said finally.

"And how am I going to do that?" Gideon asked. 

"You're good at sleight of hand, aren't you?" Hermione said, thinking of the Weasley twins and all their pranks.

"As a matter of fact, yes."

"Good," she said, reaching for the omnipresent hair tie around her wrist. "Now, keep watch while I make you a fake diadem."

She retreated further into the dim cranny, while Gideon shielded her from view with his body. She closed her eyes, recalling every detail about how the diadem had looked, and then quickly opened them and transfigured the elastic tie into a reasonable facsimile of the delicate silver headpiece. 

Hermione handed the faux diadem to Gideon, and he released an admiring whistle at her handiwork. Hermione flushed, but had no time to say anything, because an elegant, trim figure with a blinding sweep of blonde hair had approached the front steps of the bank. Gideon took the transfigured diadem with a wink and gave Hermione a nudge. She swallowed and quickly made her way over to the woman, who was looking around furtively, anxious to avoid Order members.

"Excuse me?" Hermione trilled, channeling her best Rita Skeeter impersonation. "Narcissa Malfoy?! As I live and breathe!"

Narcissa turned, annoyed, looking down her aristocratic nose. "I'm sorry?" The chill in the blonde's voice could freeze a waterfall. "Can I help you?"

It was clear Narcissa did not wish to provide any help to anyone, let alone a bushy haired witch in odd clothing, but her impeccable manners were winning. Hermione offered her a toothy smile. 

"I am… I am a Seer!" Hermione proclaimed. "And I have a, ah, message for you!"

"I'm sure you do," Narcissa said icily. "But I must get to the bank before they close for the evening, so if you'll excuse me, I'll be going."

Feeling panicky as Narcissa started to turn away, especially because Gideon was inches away, Hermione reached out and grabbed the older woman's hand. Narcissa looked down, clearly horrified to be touched by some unknown madwoman, but Hermione soldiered onward.

"It's about your son, Mrs. Malfoy!" Hermione tried her best to look wise and all knowing.

"I don't have a son," Narcissa said through gritted teeth, pulling her hand free. Gideon froze, steps behind her, but fortunately Narcissa kept her eyes on Hermione. "Not yet, anyway."

There was a brief flash of longing on Narcissa's haughty face, and Hermione knew she had her attention, however tenuously.

"Ah, but you will! He will be born under the sign of -" Hermione quickly went through her mental files, accessing her memory of her limited time in Divination class. "- Gemini, and he will be fair and proud, like yourself." Narcissa pursed her lips, but kept listening. Gideon was reaching carefully into the silk bag Narcissa carried. Hermione forced herself not to gag as she went on about Draco's many qualities. "He will be clever and canny, and follow in his father's footsteps. He will seek great heights, and, ah, unlock the secrets of Hogwarts."

 _And let in a load of Death Eaters,_ Hermione thought sourly. But Gideon had the diadem in his hands. He waggled his eyebrows at her, and started carefully backing away. Hermione stifled a smile, but she wasn't quick enough. Narcissa's features twisted in suspicion, and she whirled around to see what Hermione had smiled at. 

"Prewett," she hissed. Her wand was out in a flash.

Gideon dodged around her, grabbing Hermione by the hand. "C'mon, Madame Seer!" He tugged her back toward the cranny they'd come from.

A spell flashed, a stunning gold, erupting from the end of Narcissa's wand. Gideon shoved Hermione in front of him, taking a hit on his hip. He stumbled, and Narcissa grabbed the back of his coat.

"Not so fast, blood traitor," she said. She lifted her wand again.

"Narcissa, wait!" Hermione cried, shoving her body between Narcissa's and Gideon's. She knew Gideon was more than capable of fighting, and she knew he wouldn't die for another two years (and she desperately hoped her own presence wouldn't advance that date). But there was no reason for anyone to get hurt. She'd had enough of that in her life.

"Just, wait," she repeated. "I wasn't lying about your son. June, 1980. I promise. Give me veritaserum, anything, I'm telling the truth." Narcissa hesitated, looking doubtful. Hermione kept on, her words coming rapid fire. "The Dark Lord is going to use him. Badly. But I will … I will help him."

How, Hermione wasn't sure. The war had come and gone. She knew Draco was having a hard time of it, though, and there had to be something she could do, when she got back, even if it was just telling people to shove off when they started giving him a hard time. 

"Will he love me?" Narcissa said, seemingly swayed by Hermione's fervor. The question was heartbreaking. 

"Yes," Hermione said, certainty flooding her voice. "More than anyone else, I'd say."

Narcissa's hand dropped from the back of Gideon's coat. "June of 1980, you say?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes."

"If you are lying I will hunt the pair of you down and kill you." Narcissa's eyes went steely again.

"Fair enough," said Gideon cheerfully, smoothing his coat down.

"I'd expect nothing less," Hermione said, relief washing through her. 

Narcissa seemed to reach a decision. "I need to get to my vault. I must put whatever this is inside of it." She hefted the silk bag, which now contained Hermione's transfigured hair tie. "If my husband finds out it's a fake, I'll not protect you."

The witch whirled away, leaving Hermione to collapse against Gideon almost bonelessly. "I thought we were done for," she whispered, everything hitting her now that the moment of adrenaline had passed. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, just a zinger to the hip," Gideon said, reaching into his pocket. "Luckily she aimed for the pocket where my watch was." He pulled the timepiece out. "She dinged it, the cow."

Hermione reached for the watch, running her finger over the dent she knew well from Harry's version. "Now it has a story."

"I guess that's one way of looking at it." He shook his auburn head ruefully. "Molly's going to give me hell about being careless with my things."

━━☆ ⌒*.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

They landed back at the Prewett house breathless and giddy. A successful mission had that effect on people. Gideon was grinning widely as he hung their coats on the stand in the front entry. 

"Oi, Fabian!" he called, to no response. "Bah, must be at his girlfriend's. Maybe you know her, too? Rosmerta? She runs the Three Broomsticks over in Hogsmeade."

"I do," Hermione said, too filled with happy to bother arguing about spoiling the future. 

Gideon tucked the diadem safely into a drawer. Hermione had told him she could put it where it needed to be when they were back at the school. 

"Just us, then," he said, casually.

Hermione did not feel casual, however, as his eyes locked with hers. She felt like the air had suddenly gone thick, and when he stepped closer without breaking eye contact, it made her throat go dry.

Gideon stopped mere millimeters from her. "That was a hell of a stunt you pulled off today."

"You, too," she said. Her voice came out in a raspy whisper. 

"I couldn't have pulled off that transfiguration. I've never seen that diadem." His hand lifted, fingers grazing her cheek, and Hermione's stomach went wobbly. His fingers were rough, slightly calloused, and she couldn't help but wonder how they might feel elsewhere.

"Your magic drawing, though," she said, and laid her hand on his chest. What was she doing? His eyes were such a lovely grey color, though, and his beard was that deep rich red flecked with gold and bronze. Also, his mouth was very close to hers now. It would be so easy…

And it was, mostly because his other hand wrapped around to the small of her back, tugging her that final infinitesimal distance to him. His mouth descended, fitting his lips to hers, and it was warm and it sent shocks down to the tips of her toes.

"Gideon," she breathed. "This is something we absolutely should not do."

Her hands, however, had looped around her neck.

"Why's that, future girl? You're leaving soon, and I'll be too dead to care when you get back."

Hermione gasped, and tried to step back, but he wouldn't let her.

"You can't fool me, Hermione. I hear what's behind all of Dumbledore's crafty questions and your careful answers. You didn't know me when you turned up in my lap. Me or Fabian." He tucked an errant curl behind her ear. "And I can tell you want me, too. So let's have tonight, yeah?"

Hermione hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. Okay. Yeah."

It was madness; he was Ron's uncle and a dead man besides, but she and Ron were not an item, and she did want him, and he was very, very alive under her hands, so she looped her arms around his shoulders once more, and pressed her mouth to his. 

He lifted her as they kissed, carrying her down the hall to his room. She began working on the buttons of his shirt, trailing kisses along his jaw and down his neck, lightly running her tongue into the hollow at the bottom of his throat. She felt his hand tighten against her when she did that, and she found his mouth again, eagerly accepting his hungrier kiss before he set her down on his bed.

His room was a man's room, all dark wood with pewter fixtures, and not a Quidditch poster to be seen. Gideon paused only to toe off his shoes before urging her further back on the bed, his hands sliding her jumper up her torso and easing it over her head. She whimpered when his mouth broke contact with hers, and frantically finished unbuttoning his shirt, peeling it back from his shoulders and down his muscled arms. They made short work of each other's trousers, too, and then his clever hands unclasped her bra and found her breasts. Hermione arched her back, pressing her breasts into his hands, and she released a groan as he brushed his thumbs over her nipples. 

He sat back, his fingers gliding down her torso to the waist-band of her knickers. "You're so very lovely," he murmured, and she felt her whole body flush. Then he eased her knickers down, leaving her naked before him.

Hermione looked up at him, emboldened by his obvious desire for her. His steel grey eyes were half-lidded with want. She reached down, wrapping her fingers around his cock, which was hard as rock and velvety smooth in her hand. He breathed deeply as she moved her hand along his shaft.

"Turnabout is fair play, future girl," he said, and his fingers found her. 

She let go of him, gasping as he slid two fingers inside of her, his thumb circling on her clit. She arched off the bed again, her eyes nearly rolling back into her head at the sensation of his fingers working back and forth. Then Gideon bent his head, and his tongue replaced his thumb, and Hermione cried out, beside herself with bliss. The waves of pleasure rocked through her as he rolled her clit under his tongue, and he held her there, not relenting until her orgasm subsided.

"Fuck, Gideon," she said, when he finally lifted his head, smirking at her. She threaded her fingers through his hair, urging him back upward so she could taste herself on his lips.

"Oh, I plan to," he answered, and he pushed her thighs wider with his knees so he could guide his cock inside her.

She hissed at the feeling of him filling her, stretching her - it felt so incredibly perfect - but Gideon gave her little time to revel in the moment. He rocked his hips back, then thrust forward, and Hermione was lost. It was too good, the way he fucked her, and her fingernails raked down his back; all she could do was hang on and enjoy the ride. 

Hermione had no idea how they lasted. She only knew she came apart and back together again and again, and then he was crying out, too, jerking his hips against her as he came. He kissed her, over and over, until his body relaxed, and kept kissing her until they both fell asleep.

━━☆ ⌒*.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Hermione felt oddly pensive the next morning, as she sat at the Prewett's kitchen table wearing the Chudley Cannons shirt and a pair of Molly's old denims (which were delightfully hip-hugging, with a nice flare at the ankles). She didn't want to rush off to Hogwarts to hide the diadem and check in with McGonagall. She wanted more time here, but she knew she didn't belong and needed to return to her own time. 

Gideon placed a steaming mug of coffee in front of her, and took the chair next to hers.

"Don't tell me you're sorry," he said, stirring some cream into his own mug.

Hermione blinked at him, surprised. "No, not at all. You've just made leaving a little harder, is all."

"Maybe McGonagall will be stumped," Gideon offered.

But neither one of them really thought so, and after they finished their coffee, Hermione gathered up her things along with the diadem, and the pair of them made the journey to the school. 

Once there, Hermione took Gideon up to the seventh floor, finding the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. Barnabas was still struggling with those trolls, and Hermione grinned at him before making the required three passes in front of the blank wall, focusing on the Room of Hidden Things. The door appeared, and Hermione opened it cautiously, making sure she'd gotten the correct room before stepping inside. Gideon followed her in, his sharp eyes looking around in wonder.

"I never knew there was a room here," he admitted, running his fingers over a table thick with dust.

"There are technically infinite rooms here," Hermione said, "but this is the one we need."

It was a vast room, filled with things hidden and forgotten. There were towers of books that Hermione had to suppress a longing to explore, along with bottles of potions, jewelry, weaponry, and all the detritus of centuries of students and professors hiding things away. Finally she spotted what she was looking for, the bust of an ugly old warlock. She knew Harry would, some twenty years from now, use that bust, along with a wig and a tiara, to mark the spot where he'd hidden his potions book. Hermione carefully withdrew the priceless diadem from her bag and placed it next to the bust.

"That's it?" Gideon said.

"That's it," Hermione affirmed. "A bit anticlimactic, I suppose, but that's where Ha - ah, where it will be found, someday."

Gideon frowned, looking at the diadem. "It's going to take a long time to win this once and for all, isn't it?" He sighed. "And I'm not going to be alive to see it."

Hermione stepped close to him, taking his hands in hers. "You've helped more than you could possibly know."

"That'll have to be enough, then." Gideon kissed her gently. "We should go find Professor McGonagall."

McGonagall was in her classroom, which was devoid of students thanks to the holiday. She did not appear surprised by their arrival, but then Hermione could not think of a time when McGonagall had ever appeared surprised. When Hermione approached, the professor held out a Christmas cracker, wrapped in starry blue paper.

"I've reconstructed the cracker from the scrap you gave me," the older witch explained. "The spell was exceedingly clever, although I do believe it was intended to place you in slow motion, not send you hurtling back through time. Do tell the person who made this to only circle their wand once anti-clockwise next time, rather than several times, hmmm?"

"I'll pass along the wisdom, professor," Hermione said, reluctantly taking the cracker.

"Now, don't set it off right away," McGonagall admonished. "You need to tidy a few things up."

Hermione's head snapped to attention, but she instantly realized the professor was right. "Indeed." She wished there was more to say, more she could ask. "Thank you. I'll see you in twenty years."

McGonagall smiled. "I'll look forward to it, Miss Granger."

As they left the school, Gideon took Hermione's hand. "Are we off to the Burrow, then?"

Hermione nodded, not speaking for fear of the lump in her throat.

━━☆ ⌒*.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Hermione had always been good at memory charms. Her own parents were still in Australia, with no notion of their former lives as British dentists with a uniquely talented daughter. She still never liked to do them, though. It seemed so unfair to take something away from someone like that. But Molly and Arthur were in agreement that it needed to be done, and so Hermione raised her wand, and took herself out of their memories.

Afterward, Gideon led her to the garden, sitting on a bench outside with her. Hermione was shaky as she considered the reconstructed Christmas cracker. She hadn't been in 1978 very long, but she was reluctant to leave it. Gideon Prewett was a special man, so clever and vibrant, and she'd connected with him so easily. She hated to think about what his short future held. She hoped she'd added something, however brief, to his life.

"What if it sends me too far forward?" Hermione fretted. "Or back to the stone age? Maybe I should just -"

"Hermione." Gideon cut her off, a finger over her lips. "It's going to work. It will all be fine." He lifted his finger, his mouth quirking into a rueful smile. "Now kiss me goodbye."

She nodded, and leaned in to fit her mouth to his. As she did, he pressed the cracker harder into her hands. Before she could lose her nerve, she pulled the cracker apart. She felt Gideon's lips leave hers, and she knew he was gone.

When Hermione opened her eyes, she was alone on the bench. A deep sorrow swept through her. It hadn't been enough time. It was all she would ever get. She took a moment to conquer her emotions, and then stood to walk around to the front door of the Burrow. 

"Hello?" she called, pushing the familiar door open. 

Ginny Weasley was the first person she saw. At the sight of Hermione, Ginny's mouth fell open, then Ginny flung her arms around her and began hollering for her mum.

"Mum! MUM! Hermione is back! She's okay!" Ginny let go of Hermione, looking at her scrutinizingly. "You're okay, aren't you? You just vanished and we were all so worried. I thought Mum was going to throttle George."

"I'm okay, Ginny," Hermione said. 

Ginny nodded, satisfied, as Molly came hurtling around the corner. Molly also swept Hermione into a tight embrace, fussing over her. 

"Oh, you poor dear! What happened? Where did you go? Harry and Ron tried a locator spell, and they got nothing!"

"I'll explain," Hermione reassured the older woman. "But let's gather everyone so I don't have to do it ten times, please."

"Of course, dear." Molly let her go, tipping her head to look at her curiously. "Is that a Chudley Cannons shirt?"

Hermione looked down at what she was wearing. She'd kept the old, soft tee that Gideon had given her on, selfishly wanting something that proved her leap in time had been real. 

"It is," she said carefully, not sure why a Cannons t-shirt would be of note in this particular household. 

"My brother - Gideon, that is, and it must have been twenty years ago - he said a girl was going to turn up wearing his Cannons shirt someday, and that I was to give her something." Molly looked like she'd seen a ghost. "Is that my brother's shirt, Hermione?"

"It is," Hermione said again. "I promise I'll explain -"

Molly cut her off. "You can explain to everyone soon enough. But hold on a moment, please, dear. Let me do this last thing for my brother."

Ginny looked at Hermione questioningly as Molly hurried off, but Hermione avoided her eyes, not any more knowledgeable about what was about to happen than Ginny was. Molly returned in as much of a hurry as she'd left, hold out a weathered but prettily wrapped parcel and placing it into Hermione's hands. 

"If I could have a moment?" Hermione asked, awkwardly. She could see the rampant curiosity on both Weasley women's faces.

"Yes, yes, of course," Molly said, although perhaps a bit too quickly. "I'll just go let everyone know you've returned safely and round them up, shall I?"

Ginny and Molly left, and Hermione turned the package over in her hands, opening it carefully. There was a letter enclosed, and Hermione read that first.

_Hey, Future Girl. You nicked my shirt, but I'll forgive you. That's because I nicked something, too, when we were in the Room of Hidden Things. I'm passing it to you, or to Molly to give to you, if you want to be technical about it. I'm heading out on a mission with my brother, and I suspect this is my last one. It's been a while since I last saw you, but I have to admit I think of you often. I will definitely be thinking about you tonight._

_Be well, Hermione. You gave me a bit of sunshine during a dreary war, and you gave me hope that it will all be worth it._

_Yours,_

_Gideon_

Hermione pressed the letter to her chest for a moment, then carefully folded it and put it in her back pocket. Then she turned the box over in her hands again. A ring fell out. It would have fit a man's smallest finger; it would probably fit on her thumb. She noticed that something was engraved on the inside, and she held it up to eye level so she could read it. 

_Wisdom to the wearer_.

Hermione shook her head. It was an apropos souvenir of a task involving Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem. She slid it onto her thumb. She didn't know if she felt any wiser, but she did feel Gideon's presence.

That was enough.


End file.
